


Guarded by The Golden Armies

by JinxxTheInsomniac



Category: El Laberinto del Fauno | Pan's Labyrinth (2006), Hellboy - All Media Types, Labyrinth (1986), Magic: The Gathering
Genre: Creation of the Fey Mentioned, Elven Clans, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, F/M, Incest, Multi, Nuada/Salihn(OFC), Nuala/Garovik(OMC), Nuala/Nuada Incest, Other, Pre-Hellboy 2, Pre-Hellboy 2: The Golden Army, Pre-Nuada's Exile, Sad Ending, Sibling Incest, This Fic Will attempt To tell you Why, Unwanted marriage, Why does Nuada hate humans so much?, betrothal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-10-10 20:36:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17433095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JinxxTheInsomniac/pseuds/JinxxTheInsomniac
Summary: Bethmoora stands on the brink of war, its borders being impeded on by the mortals who insist upon expanding their lands into the sidhe-territories. King Balor calls upon the other Sidhe territories, enlisting Nuada to wed one of the daughters of an allied kingdom.  Will Nuada take to the marriage? Or will all the clans be destroyed as a result of the human menace?





	1. Prologue

 "Long ago, there were two human-immortals; a man and a woman.  They reigned the sacred forest where war, pain, and fear held no ground, and they dwelt in the presence of the Creator; the first-- and above all-- the most powerful, of the Sidhe. 

     "The humans birthed several children together, but soon, the woman grew cold to her mate and Creator's blessings, choosing to steal away with her young children and hide wherein her lover would not search. However, it was when the Creator found her and asked for the children to be returned that the woman refused, to which the Creator set upon them a dreadful curse: 

    "'The children you have so taken and hidden away from me shall be hidden from man; banished into the deepest forests of which none shall find.'  

     "And with that, the children were gone, and for the rest of her days the mortal woman sought for the young innocents, but was fruitless in her endeavors, dying without ever seeing them again... And that, my dear children, is the tale of the first Sidhe." 

     The old crone closed the enormous tome with a frail claw, her small, but vibrant green eyes glancing in the direction of the young twins having been listening intently, their wide eyes aglow with childish intrigue. 

     "But, Loma-Sarr, you say it was a curse," The fair Princess Nuala chirped after a moment of silence. "I do not think to become a Sidhe is a curse..." 

     The Loma-Sarr smiled at the amber-eyed girl, but before she could form a response, the Prince Nuada gave a disdainful roll of his eyes, resting his head on an open palm as he eyed the Loma-Sarr suspiciously. His sister was often so childish to believe such tales. The Sidhe being borne of filthy human loins? It was an absurd sentiment and one that was often disregarded as such by the eldership of his Lord-Father's counsel. 

     "It was a curse for its time, your highness." The old crone answered patiently, "The mortals, themselves, had concern for the afterlife as a result. If they were unable to find favor with the All-Maker, they would be damned to suffer for their transgressions."

     The Prince Nuada gave a disdainful snort, causing Nuala to shoot a venomous sneer in his direction. The Loma-Sarr rose gently from the engraved seat on which she perched.

     "My young sires," She declared with an ancient rasp, the evidence of her age abruptly becoming apparent as she struggled feebly towards the door, while also denying the offer of assistance from the attending servants having guarded them. "I must retire for the eve... Shall I return this time again tomorrow?" 

     In complete unison, the elfin children replied. 

    "Yes!" 

    "No!" 

     Nuala made a noise of protest before fisting her hair and giving it a hearty tug, the twin's faces abruptly morphing into identical looks of pain. Nuada, in turn, gritting his teeth against the sting of his sister's assault, made a point of yanking one of his sharp-pointed ears, eliciting a pained response from Nuala whose lip quivered in an effort to gain sympathy from her superiors. 

     The two attending elves having witnessed the entire ordeal first-hand wasted little time in separating the young royals, cursing their disruptive behavior all the while. 

     "Be at peace, young ones! Do not shame your father's house in the name of such petty affairs!" The Loma-Sarr declared. Nuala was the first to comply with the older woman's demand, bowing her head in reverence while Nuada continued to berate the servants still attempting to subdue him. 

     "To bed, young sires! I will have no more squabbling to-night." 

     At last Nuada surrendered, his amber eyes glistening with childlike rage as his pursed lips muttered a chaste apology to the elder before him.  At such a young age he was a proud fighter, the Loma-Sarr mused; he would make a fine commander when he came of age and could be of service to his Lord-Father. 

     Without being asked, the twins sauntered over to their bedsides, clambering beneath the silken covers. Sleepily, they bade their caretakers' goodnight, Nuada's voice still coarse even as his mouth became gaped with a yawn. As the servants took their leave, the lights of the bedroom gradually dimmed until darkness nearly overtook the radiant chamber, leaving only an ember-like glow in its wake. 


	2. Chapter I: In The Name of His Majesty

     The centuries went by like meager years for the young Silverlance twins who in turn grew and matured from spry adolescence to reserved young adults. They were unique and beautiful in appearance, alluring any and all within the court with their wisdom and intrigue. 

     Nuada, who'd once been as plump as a peach and as playful as a doe, became shapely and tall, his more prominent features sharpening as he grew, his body becoming heavily endowed with muscle when the time came that he would need to serve on behalf of his father in the more grievous affairs of war. 

     Nuala, however, in her gentle graces, grew into a gorgeous young woman, her porcelain features appearing as soft as cream. Unlike her brother, however, Nuala found the prospects of war to be quite wasteful; the bloodshed doing little to remedy the strife which had resulted in such gruesome consequences. Her perspectives might've labeled her a coward, but such was not the case in truth and would be a foolish perspective indeed. While she was as gracious and soft-spoken as any princess was typically ascribed, she was as venomous as a serpent when the search for peace was found to be a destitute endeavor.  Those who unknowingly sought for her wrath would live to see the curved dagger usually hidden among her skirts, but not much longer thereafter.

     They were as two sides of the same coin in most every aspect, but one thing remained abundantly clear regardless of their differences; the love they shared was as fierce as any that could be described. They were as protective of one another as they were affectionate, seldom apart should one require the assistance of the other. 

     And so, peace and chaos dwelt alongside one another in prosperity, their eventual reign promising to be a strong one when the time came for King Balor to relinquish his title as Lord over Bethmoora. 

                        *****

 

     "The humans grow restless, milord; their cities grow and expand with each new day and now threaten to intrude on our borders." A dignitary announced, causing a hushed gasp of the Sidhe in attendance to wash through the air. Whispers in an ancient tongue fluttered like butterfly wings throughout the officials as they speculated on the disturbing news having only just arrived. 

     Humans, as greedy as their nature assured, often found themselves seeking out far more than their allotted share of the lands. They were reckless and foolharty, but nonetheless regarded as a protected species and not to have their blood spilt over matters which could surely be remedied diplomatically.  

     King Balor's brow became furled as he eyed the soldier inquisitively. "Do they know of their transgressions against us? Of the ramifications that will ensue if they persist?" 

     "They do, my Lord, but it seems they merely stock our warnings as no more than children's tales; fabricated threads meant to conceal something of great value..." The shorter figure replied, his gaze stern despite being averted from his Lord's while he knelt. 

     King Balor rose, his amber-tinted stare practically burning into the surrounding arena as he marched stubbornly  down from the throne to stand among his people while Nuada watched in silence, his form all but hidden behind the shadows of the ivory throne on which his father sat.

     Balor was quick to answer in an almost nonchalant manner as he offered a churlish shrug of his shoulder. 

     "If they refuse to honor our sacred oaths, then we will have no choice but to stand and protect what is ours." His voice was similar to that of the groans of an ancient oak. "I will not let our realm fall to the mortal tribes if their efforts persist." 

     Nuala abruptly stepped forward from the opposite side of Nuada, her features marred with concern wherein Nuada's were creased with resentment and loathing for the lesser humans. This was where Nuada and Nuala differed in opinions: Nuada cared for the humans about as much as a serpent cared for the well-being of it's prey, which was to say, not in the slightest, while Nuala was entirely the opposite, her viewpoints revering all walks of life as significant and worthy of compassion; even that of a human's. 

      "My king," Nuala inquired, her voice carrying like the melody of a flute. Some turned to behold the young princess while most elected to ignore her, their eyes fixated for their king alone. Balor eventually turned, a weary smile emerging over his carved features when Nuala's form came into view. 

     "Yes, my child, what is it?" He inquired gently. It was more than simply assumed by Bethmoora's denizens that King Balor favored Nuala over her twin, and oftentimes granted her more favors than even Nuada was regularly permitted. 

     Nuala's voice was hollow as she replied, electing to speak in their mother-tongue rather than that of the common-speech. "Allow the humans this one fault, my father.  They have little knowledge of our existence despite our efforts. As you recall, the curse of humankind is their inability to comprehend what cannot easily be explained--." 

     "I know the fable!" Balor shot back with an exasperated sniff, causing Nuala to abruptly shrug back at the coarseness of her father's voice. 

     Further whispers echoed in response to Nuala's and her father's exchange, though, judging by the sternness in King Balor's stance and tone, he'd already found his own conclusion and required no more council on the matter. 

     The humans wouldn't stand a chance if they chose to further their borders without the consent of the Sidhe living there; and King Balor would see to that personally if needed. 

     With a casual yet determined approach, the king meandered towards an expectant guard who in turn straightened at the approach of his lordship. 

     "Double the number of sentries in the canopies to assess the movements of the enemy,"  the guard was quick to leave as Balor then turned to the messenger having arrived earlier and still stood quaking with uncertainty. "Send word to the surrounding territories; demand that they reaffirm their allegiances to Bethmoora's king and make haste to the eastern boarders," As soon as the king had spoken, the golden-clad elf jolted to attention, a salute serving as his farewell before he wordlessly slipped into an adjacent corridor. 

     At last, King Balor turned, his ember eyes fixated on Nuada's own before he offered a grim nod which Nuada, in turn, acknowledged as requesting a private audience later when the council was dismissed.  Shifting his weathered gaze, King Balor shared the same nod with Nuala as well, who responded by bowing low before slipping silently out from the throne-room,  the golden train of her dress snaking silently behind in wake of her gentle steps. 


	3. Chapter II: Of Private Plots

 

     Nuada stood as sturdily as any soldier, but his expression gave away the emotional shock coursing through him upon King Balor’s private request; 

     "Betrothal?" He demanded furiously, the very idea of taking a mate outside of his sacred bloodline being as absurd as it was controversial in the eyes of the Silverlance clan. "You simply cannot be serious!" 

      But King Balor's features remained stony. "I am. The Lord of Chaedus, Sire Jarrod of the southern kingdom, will only join our leagues if our kingdoms are allied through marriage. He declared this some centuries prior when our allegiances were first established, and you were but a child. Surely you understand the conditions therein." 

      Nuada had begun pacing, his sturdy marches echoing stubbornly through the sculpted chamber. 

      Halting, his disdainful composure abruptly grew resentful and cruel, "and what of Nuala? Shall you whore her off to some other dignitary as you have done to me?" Jealousy radiated off of Nuada like steam. 

      If Balor was frustrated with the tone of his son's words, he didn't show it, but rather extended a weathered hand of surrender. 

      "What will you have me do, my son? Does it lessen the blow of betrayal you feel if I say you have the choice between two of Lord Jarrod's daughters?" 

      Nuada had his back turned to his father as his gaze fixated on a peculiar rune having been etched into the wall across from him. How had he never noticed it prior? 

      Bowing his head, his palm pressed into the rune as though he could siphon power from it if he focused hard enough. He felt used and betrayed and could only imagine how Nuala had taken to the news of her own unwanted marriage. 

      "Do I know them?"

      "Salihn of Chaedus-Dimir, and her sister, Sorathe." Balor answered expectantly. Nuada momentarily recalled the peculiar realm that made up Chaedus and it's governing palaces. 

      There were three; Dimir, Shid, and Crusc. Chaedus-Shid was the temple in which the Creators were honored, while Chaedus-Dimir housed the respective royals. Lastly, Chaedus-Crusc was used as the meeting place for most dignitaries. Nuada had only ever seen the glories of Chaedus-Crusc and since then had felt more than just a simple desire of seeing the other two palaces in all their rumored splendor. 

     "Both are beautiful and wise. They would make a proper bride for any they deemed worthy. You should consider yourself fortunate." 

     Nuada still hadn't faced his father, shame painting his alabaster features too deeply for Balor not to notice. He would not be scorned for the recent turn of events, despite the justification behind such a response. 

     "Chaedi dignitaries will be arriving within the fortnight. Be ready to welcome them as you have been taught. I will not be shamed by any son of mine." 

     Nuada finally glared up at his father, his fury evident despite how he fought. 

     "I will do whatever it takes to assure that the Chaedi people are made welcome." 

     Balor gave a grim nod, his gaze softening just a little as he beheld his son depart from the quiet chamber. 

     As soon as his face was hidden from Balor's, he gave a snarl the likes of which would've sent any beast running with their tails between their legs. 

     Any, save for Nuala, who'd been waiting for him.  They held one another's gazes for a moment, as though they were conversing telepathically to one another. That's when Nuala let out a stifled whimper before diving into her brother's arms, his embrace bringing her solace even before his fingers had begun caressing her shoulders and back. 

     "I am to wed the Plain-King of Thraeid... I do not want to! They say he is a savage!" She cried loud enough for her little voice to resonate through the empty halls. 

     "Lower your voice, dearest sister..." Nuada murmured, kissing the tears from her cheeks as he continued to hold her as though they were still children. With a gentle hold on her shoulders, Nuada guided her into her bedchambers, brushing off the maids who'd been waiting to attend her needs. Upon seeing Nuada, they were quick to depart, their humble skirts rustling like the wings of crows as they left, each or them offering their respects to the crowned prince. He scarcely noticed while setting his beloved Nuala down against her bed. When he'd gone to retrieve a washing basin and towelette, she clung to him all the more fiercely. 

     In the ancient tongue, she pleaded for him to stay with her that evening, her eyes still a sickly crimson as she dabbed her sleeves beneath them. Nuada was quick to concede, disinterested in staying alone that evening regardless. 

      "I am afraid, brother..." She whispered against his breast as her arms remained taut around his middle.  That's when he guided her into a sitting position, his gaze jealous and cruel. 

      "If he touches you against your wishes, I'll strangle him with his own tongue." He snapped, causing Nuala's frightened expression to calm. She knew her brother's protective nature would assure his promise to her, no matter how controversial. 

     "I would've rather sired your children just as our ancestors did," Nuala whispered, her voice wavering and tearful as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "But you knew that already..." 

     Nuada offered a sympathetic smile, "I know, my darling Nuala..."

     Their lips were pressed together before either could stop it, but neither of them cared, Nuala's soft fingers tracing his jawline as he held her and ran his fingers through her hair. When they pulled away, the twins were breathless and wanting. 

      "Nuada, make love to me..." She whispered in Elfish, her eyes wide and needy even as her brother towered over her, unlacing the front of his loosely fitted tunic as he beheld his sister. Black cloth fell away to marble flesh, the intricate contouring of his muscles glimmering in the honeyed candlelight. Nuala's loose-fitting robes were quick to join Nuada's on the mosaic flooring as he fell over her, his wanton caresses causing Nuala to writhe beneath him eagerly even as her lips tasted every inch of his neck and chest. The guttural moans which preceded the aghast whisper of her name drove her nearly to the edge, and she would've if her beloved prince didn't halt his movements. 

     Looking her in the eyes, Nuada offered a simple inquiry in Elfish, as though they were exchanging secrets amidst a crowd, "Do you consent, my divine?"

      "Yes," she replied breathlessly, her eyes rolling into her head as he slid inside of her. Their moans came out simultaneously, the pleasure both of them felt only being escalated as a result of the link they shared as twins. Nuala could feel what her brother felt just as he felt her. 

     And it existed only in those treasured moments they shared as one, that nothing else mattered...


	4. Chapter III: Roses Beneath Briars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter today, my lovelies! <3

     It came up in a resounding cacophony of jovial music and the flourish of a unique collection of flags:  A magnificent caravan of midnight-blue garlands and crystalline horses whose hooves barely touched the grounds they pranced. Alongside the translucent horses, several women followed, wearing matching cobalt gowns and playing a gorgeous melody on the flutes they held to their lips. Their silvery hair was kept loose over their shoulders, the length itself extending far past their hips until it was seemingly impossible to keep it from the floor.  A number of servants followed close behind, each one carrying a strongbox engraved with Chaedus’s signet. The sigil of Chaedus’s house (it being a sideways-tilted crescent moon surrounded by pearly fire) glimmered against the eager torchlight welcoming the long-expected assembly.  It was like the night sky had poured into Bethmoora’s courtyard, manifesting itself as the beautiful Sidhe-folk.  

That’s when a handsome carriage seemingly sculpted from the moonlight itself emerged from the droves, its doors opening to reveal a sturdy but rugged figure adorned in a humble robe and circlet. Tall and imposing, the Lord Jarrod's features were as sharp as they were handsome, the quicksilver mane of hair which flowed from his crown being gathered in a loose half-topknot. Though he appeared to be in his early thirties, the ancient wisdom of a thousand years passed shone in his glowing sapphire eyes.

“Balor!” The old king bellowed, his voice much deeper than his gait would’ve otherwise assumed.  

     King Balor stood before his throne, arms extended out as though to embrace the other monarch.  “Jarrod! How good it is to see you again, cousin.”  

King Balor had donned a magnificent scarlet robe in honor of the dignitaries’ arrival, the cloak itself blanketing the ground around the throne like a pool to further accentuate the beauty of the gold-woven shirt he wore beneath.  An ivory crown, sculpted to appear like a grand set of antlers, clutched his brow, appearing almost natural in comparison to the fairness of his flesh. 

Nuada and Nuala’s thrones were concealed in the shadow their fathers’ cast, but both, in lieu of the dignitary’s arrival, rose and approached until the yellow firelight bathed them completely.  With robes the color of wine, they were both as beautiful as they were imposing, Nuala being just as equally dangerous as her brother despite her seemingly harmless exterior.  They would make proud rulers someday.

Balor and Jarrod exchanged brief pleasantries before Jarrod roared a series of terms in a language Nuada couldn't translate. At once, the door to the smaller carriage was opened, revealing a lone figure clad in a veil which shrouded her face completely from view. With her head bowed, she offered a low curtsy, which revealed an equally silvery mane of long, loose hair despite the shroud.

     "Your graces," She chirped, a thick accent marring her words. She did not remove the veil even as she straightened once more. "I am Sorathe."

      Her fingertips fell gracefully against Nuada's hand as she bowed and pressed her concealed hairline to his knuckle. She did the same with Nuala and King Balor who returned the thoughtful action with a brusque nod of the head. Lord Jarrod seemed pleased with the humility his daughter composed so diligently.

That's when another flourish of commands fell from Lord Jarrod's lips, and another woman appeared.  Nuada supposed that this was Salihn, the younger sister, and hid a disgruntled sniff. Though it was evidently a custom of the royals of Chaedus, Nuada did not appreciate that the young women wore veils as though they had something to hide.  He tried not to take their traditions as an offense, but it was hard not to while a thousand menacing possibilities hidden beneath the veil with them.

                “Your grace, I am Salihn.” The young voice murmured beneath the thick fabric before she ceremoniously pressed his knuckle against her head.  Nuada couldn’t help but smile at this awkward attempt to honor him. Salihn and Sorathe were quick to duck shyly behind their father where they stood motionless and King Jarrod continued to speak with an accent that was quite cumbersome to translate. Their heads would seemingly flinch upward at the mention of their names, but otherwise, they were as statues amidst the company of officials. 

                “You must be wearied from your travels, dignitaries of Chaedus, so allow me to offer my son as an escort to your resting chambers where you may replenish yourself as needed.”

                King Jarrod offered a courteous smile, “I offer my gratitude, cousin.” His cerulean gaze turned towards Nuada, which in turn transformed his smile into one of reluctance.  Nuada stepped forward, his hands folded politely behind his back before he extended one outward towards the adjacent hall.

                “This way, sire.” He announced diplomatically before striding towards the opened doorway.  From behind, King Balor dismissed the remainder of the caravan, offering them the comforts of the guest-chambers in the lower levels of the underground palace which Nuada declined to eavesdrop on further.  He had much more pressing matters at hand.

                He did not trust King Jarrod, regardless of how civil he was before the witnesses of his kingdom.  What was his behavior behind closed doors?

                With little to no conversation exchanged between the two parties, Nuada allowed the guards to open a massive set of double-doors wherein the most lavish of guest-chambers lay ready and waiting.  Nuala had once been jealous of these rooms when she was young, Nuada mused with a fond smile.

                “Thank you, sire.” King Jarrod proclaimed, which caused Nuada to shudder though he tried to repress it.  Verbal gratitude was not a commonplace among the Sidhe for reasons that exceeded explaining, but instead of arguing with the ruler, Nuada simply smiled and nodded his head, his throat burning while he forced himself to speak. 

                “Bethmoora’s servants are at your disposal, my liege, so please do not hesitate to call as needed.”

                And before Lord Jarrod could offer any more blasphemous proclamations of gratitude, Nuada left, a snarl etched onto his features from the moment the Chaedi folk had left his peripheral vision.

                He did not like the Chaedi King.

                Not one bit.


	5. Chapter IV: Solemn Sea Save Me

Nuada spent the better part of a half hour debating and scrutinizing just what he'd say to the woman who'd been pledged as his bride. The only time he'd ever felt as anxious and unruly as he did now was his first time serving as one of the commanders for a skirmish having infiltrated Bethmoora's outskirts many decades prior.

     His palms were sweaty, and he was more than just a little squeamish, which in turn drove him mad.  He was old enough to have seen man’s first establishments in the waking world, why now was he as sickly as a coddled youth?

     He didn't want to wed the Wood-Elf, Salihn, and nothing in this lifetime, or the next, could bring Nuada to forgive his father for agreeing so recklessly to the union. All he could think of was Nuala and whether she was among her attendees while in the presence of her betrothed.  As Nuala had expected upon hearing of her unexpected union, the creature she'd been commanded to wed was indeed a wildling; a creature of the Plains, and a traditional one at that. Archaic and peculiar, the practices of the folk living under the sun and in fur-clad tents were far from the customs Bethmoora's folk, making them a force to be suspicious yet respectful of. With a crown made of tribally-carved antlers and runic scars adorning the imposing form of the Chieftain, he and his numerous sons wore no more than a shaggy loincloth, rough-spun boots, and a matching cloak to distinguish themselves from the citizens of Bethmoora. They were as striking as they were confident in the crowded halls. 

     The sturdy chieftain of the plains-folk would not bow to King Balor, nor to Nuala, which was taken with confusion and uncertainty, especially in Nuala's case, but instead allowed a servant to approach the throne and bestow to King Balor, a knife carved from a tusk and encrusted in emerald shards which glimmered radiantly in the ethereal lights.  It was obviously a sacred knife to the clansmen of the plains, so King Balor wasted little time in accepting the gift, his weathered palms reaching forward to grasp the weapon as he nodded approvingly to the Lord.

     To Nuala, however, the plains-lord personally bestowed the engagement present; a similarly designed crown of tusks and golden ropes, though much smaller-- more intended for a secondary figure in the ranks of leadership.  Nuala rose slowly from her throne, allowing the diadem she already wore to sit in her stead before allowing the Plain-King to place the rustic crown over her golden locks. He did so without ceremony, without comment or declaration, but in a way, it felt right to Nuala, who felt all the more powerful as a result of the heavy crown's weight on her brow.  Was it because she would be Queen to these people yet only Princess to her own?

      Nuada hadn't been there at the time, and he was furious as a result, knowing full-well that had his presence been accounted for, the Plain-King would not have approached her so promptly.  Guilt, as well as hatred, overrode his emotions until the only thought that could bring him solace was of the night he and his sister laid beside one another, their legs entwined like the braids of a rope while they slept.

     Then, at once, he awoke from his thoughts, finding himself before the delicate sculpt of Salihn's door, knowing full well that she waited on the other side, just as unsettled as he; or possibly even more-so. His golden crown seemed to weigh down and clench against his temple as he prepared to enter in. 

     It was his duty to honor this woman as his bride. Yet what he opened the door, he was more than just a little taken aback;

      Two mortal women, nay, two unbloods, stood in attendance on either side of their mistress's humble throne, their gazes downcast and reserved even when the door fell open with a resounding clamor. Their scent was akin to rustic iron and fermented the air like mold.

     "Your grace," they chorused before one extended her hand towards the woman who in turn stood from her chair, slipping the traditional veil off from over her face.

     What was revealed was a youthful face framed by a cascade of long silvery hair which had been intricately braided like a crown around her head. Her pointed ears, similar to his own, were tipped pink as she blushed and desperately fretted at the nonexistent imperfections of her clothes.

      But it was her doe-like eyes which enticed him the most; like a pool of molten silver glimmering in the firelight. They drew him in as nothing else had ever before. 

     "May I present, Salihn of Chaedus-Dimir." The human declared gently, interrupting Nuada's thoughts which in turn caused him to shoot a resenting glare at the human having spoken.

      "What rights do you have to speak to me like I am of your rank, unblood?!" 

     The woman shied away in surprise while he spat in her direction. Shaking and stammering, she murmured a chaste apology which inevitably fell on deaf ears.

      In turn, the young Sidhe woman with the silver-gray hair curtsied low, her unblinking gaze never leaving his as she straightened. Nuada was almost surprised that she hadn't defended her servant from his fury but instead watched passively, the only change in her features being her cheeks which became rosy with what he supposed to be concealed rage.

     "your... grace." She croaked, as though she'd been crying. Her whisper-soft voice went almost entirely without reaction as Nuada continued to glare malevolently at the humans who dared invade his home.  Did his father know of these unbloods within Bethmoora's territories?

     "Why are _they_ here," he demanded venomously.

      The dark-skinned woman bowed her head, her gaze downcast and fearful, "With your permission, sire; we are bred as servants. Many summers have gone by since the first mortal to ever be servant to the pure Sidhe. The ancestors of my ancestors served Chaedus until their last breath, as I and my kin also will."

      "If our presence disturbs you, your grace," the older one offered after a moment, "we may depart and allow you and milady Salihn to converse in solitude, though that might be difficult, if I may say so.  We mean no disrespect to you, Bethmoora-Prince..."

      Nuada fixed his gaze on Salihn's who's eyes were still dewy and frightened.  If Nuada had any doubt towards the Chaedi's allegiance, the unbloods serving under their flag all but confirmed his suspicions.

      "You _are_ aware of the war soon to unfold between Sidhe and man, yes?" He asked in resenting bewilderment.

      That's when Salihn turned to the women in attendance, a foreign chatter emanating from her lips of which he couldn't decipher. The humans, in turn, responded in the same perplexing language, their gazes often flitting to his while he glared impatiently in return. 

      "T-the Lady Salihn inquires as to whether or not servants will be blamed for their birth-chosen allegiance when it is not in their-- our choice to decide--?" 

       "Can the woman not speak for herself? Does she not know the common tongue?" Impatience radiated from Nuada, demanding fear and subjugation from all in attendance.

    Salihn offered a single shake of her head, "no..."

     The younger unblood bowed nervously, her gaze still downcast as she spoke, "Milady Salihn does not speak of the common-tongue more than a few words. W-we serve as translators for your excellence."

      With his blood seething at the insolence the humans observed, he put effort towards being reasonable. He didn’t want Lord Jarrod to be made aware of his abuses despite the justification he felt in resenting the offensive unbloods standing amidst his territories. 

     Nuada forced his gaze to become reasonable by only a fraction. For Bethmoora's glory, he would fraternize with these unbloods, but only until such a time came as when he was able to assure their execution for the blasphemy of their presence.

       "Inquire your lady Salihn;" he began with an air of resentment, "as to whether or not she would join me for the evening meal tonight so that I may show her some of Bethmoora's splendors since it is to be her home, with her consent."

     The unblood, in turn, repeated Nuada's inquiry in the Chaedi tongue to Salihn, who offered a small smile for the first time since her arrival, nodding once in approval which, of course, required no translation. Nuada forced a polite smile to emerge over his lips before he found himself mechanically extending his hand, taking hers, and placing a tentative kiss over it before turning to leave.

     From behind him, he could hear Salihn chattering with the humans in attendance right before her voice echoed out like a bell.

      "Princet Nuda, Salihn sees you at... Late!" A soft groan fell in wake of the woman's farewell, but Nuada found himself smiling all the same.

      He liked the young woman; not so much as a husband would love his bride, but instead akin to the favor that one would have with a potential new friend. She was so much like Nuala...

 

        **

    

      Nuala had requested two handmaids to accompany her while she met the Plains-lord in a more private setting. A Sidhe which appeared eerily similar to a Bethmooran-borne stepped forward, his clothes, as well as his hair contrasting him from the rest of her kin.  Rather than a loose mane of impossibly straight hair cascading down his back, it was braided in several segments, while he also wore a loincloth the likes of which the chieftain did also. His ears had been cropped, yet his skin shone like the moonlight.

      He had obviously been sold as a slave to the Chieftain, but why? Nuala hoped she hadn't been staring.

      To her utmost surprise, it was the servant who spoke first rather than his superior;

      "Milady, Nuala, I am Jormun. Milord Thraeid has freed me of my slave-status that I may serve as yours and his translator," he declared before kneeling before her skirts. "I am at your service milady."

      Nuala, although flustered at the turn of events, allowed a curt smile to stretch across her fair features. "If you could welcome his lordship to Bethmoora and thank him for the effort his men will soon put forth in the war."

       At Nuala's conclusion, Jormun began speaking, the language being quite throaty and unique to Nuala's ears.  The Plains-lord offered a genuine smile in the direction of the small, pale woman standing before him, her emerald dress only making her seem even more demure. Nuala couldn't help but be comforted by the softness of her new lordship's response. He obviously had no intention of treating her poorly if the amount of effort he put towards assuring her security was so clear, even at their first meeting.

      "His lordship thanks you for the warm welcome and hopes that you will be comfortable in his home when the time comes that we return."

      Nuala stopped short; of course, she'd be expected to leave Bethmoora to journey into the plains and live the remainder of her life as one of her sire's evidently innumerable consorts. Polygamy was an infrequent, but abided by, tradition of some clans, and she had to accept that about her new home.

      Nuala turned to Jormun, her voice wavering even as she fought to control it while she spoke. "I would like to request that his highness extends his hand so that I may better know him..."

      Jormun wasted little time in offering the Lord a translation of Nuala's request, which was taken with dubious uncertainty. Nuala could understand his perspective in some ways, yet chose to remain patient while her betrothed contemplated his response.

      With a grace that did not match his frame, the Chieftain rose, striding towards Nuala with a sturdy march. He stood at least two heads taller than Nuala herself, making her feel quite small in comparison while he extended a calloused hand towards her. The breadth of his palm more than certainly doubled hers in size, which caused Nuala to falter in her endeavors to read him. What would she find? Surely, he was a war-bringer; a sigil of chaos amidst the plains-people, so the answer might have been obvious...

      Yet when her palm gently pressed against his, it was not carnal malevolence that she saw...

      It was peace. 

      A ruler whose only mindset was on what best suited his clansmen.  Yes, he had bedded several women and they carried his seed in their womb and bore his child, but it wasn't because he favored them, but rather because it was customary for the leader of his clan to breed as many pureblooded heirs as were possible.

     As she glimpsed deeper into his mind, she could see the rustic kingdom that awaited her many leagues from here once the war had passed.  It was not as she expected, nor was it entirely unexpected.

      It was an oasis that this tribe had established as their home.  With a number of cave-like fur tents scattered about the roots of the massive sprawling trees, a snakelike river adorned the furthermost outskirts, hollowed out logs serving as canoes as we all as bridges to traverse across. Yet it was atop one of the grandest of the trees wherein a castle existed.  Constructed from logs, fur-trappings, and bone, the little palace caused Nuala to smile.  This must be her husband’s chosen abode.

      “What is your name, milord?” Nuala whispered rather weakly. Her mind’s eye couldn’t delve deep enough to find it, which in turn caught her off guard.  Usually, the first thing to come to her would be an individual’s name, but for whatever reason, that was not the case for this particular subject.

       “Milady, if I may…” A soft voice resonated from somewhere nearby. Jormun was still a respectful distance away but had been moments away from reaching out and touching her. “It is customary that birthnames are kept at absolute secrecy.  Only those of Thraeid can know the sacred names.”

       “But if I am to be his wife, should I not know his namesake?”

       Jormun gave a bashful glance in the direction of his chieftain before offering a solemn nod. “You will know it because upon your union you will be known as a fellow Thraeid.”

       Nuala lowered her palm from his, feeling a link become severed between them. It was such a strange world in which this Sidhe existed, would she ever find peace among his people? It didn't seem possible despite her best efforts at indulging such a notion. 

       She didn't want to be a Thraeid. 

       She didn't want to uproot her life in Bethmoora only to reroot it in a culture that she didn't even know the language of.

       She wanted Nuada.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Admittedly, I think of Khal Drogo as I'm writing about Nuala's soulmate, and that's not something I plan to apologize for xD


End file.
